


visceral reactions to things unnamed

by silverxrain



Series: the spider and the elephant [6]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 01:16:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4080937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverxrain/pseuds/silverxrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>she's sick with it, the feeling of what's inside her trying to show itself</p>
            </blockquote>





	visceral reactions to things unnamed

There are two people on the team who can never fully relax, never shift out of watchful 24/7 combat mode, two people with fight or flight embedded too deeply in them to smile and mingle for long during one of Stark’s cocktail parties, and those people are Bruce and Natasha, naturally, because monsters are always afraid of being discovered, no matter what circumstance: this is a fact of life. They’re sitting on one of the snowy white couches up near the floor-to-ceiling windows, and Natasha fights the urge to examine the couch to see if the red and green is actually bleeding through their skin and staining the flawless white. She’d hate to mess up Tony’s house, what with the red in her ledger and the green in Banner’s skin.

She’s been doing the rounds, spent longer with Sam and Steve than anyone else, had a drink with Thor and Tony, small talk with everyone else, smiling, looking pretty, it’s one of the things Natasha does best. But the reason it makes her uneasy, relaxing, acting social and not on guard, is because every time in the past she’s had to do that, it was undercover for an assignment, and while Natasha is good at deep, deep cover, she’s also living in a constant state of red alert, and sometimes, running with the Avengers, living at the Tower, it’s hard to keep in mind that this is not the deepest cover she’s ever had, but rather, reality. This, what she has now, feels like her most important assignment yet, proving herself to everyone over and over, but mostly for her own sake, earning her team members’ faith in her, saving people, and Natasha can never rest until a mission is done. The people of earth will never be safe, and so she will never be done.

She reclines on the seat, wonders if she will spend the rest of her life like this. There are worse things, and perhaps she will stay this way, perhaps not, she intends to live for a long time, and indeed, she already has. She coyly batted away the first attempt to pin down her age by Tony, and will never let on how well she understands Steve’s confusion with how fast the world is changing even before his eyes, or why, choosing instead to lightly tease him, fitting in with the rest, doing her job.  

Natasha still expects to wake up and have it be gone, because this is not something she was ever prepared for to happen. She doesn’t know now what kind of scrap of free spirit she found inside herself that propelled her to stop hitting Clint long enough to hear his proposal, because now all that is swimming underneath her surface is constant confusion and self-doubt. And she’s really fucking _sick_ of it, she realizes. Bruce is right there, stretched out, arm slung on the back of the sofa. Natasha feels an inexplicable urge to torment him. She wonders if this is the urge Tony feels when he starts causing mischief, or if it’s just something about as dangerous as _the Hulk_ that makes people want to test Banner. He’s certainly been tested, by life and situation and people, and he’s still here, still watching the party and swirling people with sleepy eyes, a relaxed air that is pleasing to the eye. It’s not a show. Natasha doesn’t have to read him to know he’s not pretending. He doesn’t, he doesn’t ever fuck around with feelings, or act upon something he doesn’t want. He doesn’t pretend. Belatedly, Natasha recalls the heat of the wooden hut she first met him in, when he slapped the table and yelled in anger, and Natasha thought _oh god I am going to die right here, right now,_ and she’s poised on a hair trigger. He looks into her and she looks into him and sees the monster, right there under the surface, green and thrashing, and he looks into her eyes and sees liquid terror.

Natasha may consider herself a monster, but not of Bruce’s caliber. Not of Bruce’s strength. She knows, the spider works in different ways than the elephant, but one knows when their tricks are not enough to bring down the other. People stay out of Bruce’s way, even when he’s not stampeding, because he could, any moment at all, to sit next to him is to leave yourself open to him, when you are near him, there’s nowhere you can hide and Natasha knows this, which is worse, the blinding terror of destruction that you know is faster than you’ll ever be, no matter how good you are. Natasha knows without a shadow of doubt Bruce can kill her.

To be honest with herself, that is part of the appeal.

 _This is how people feel around me_ , she thinks, and people still love her. Laura still lets her near her kids. Clint has stuck with her when he’s seen firsthand what she’s capable of. Who has done that for Bruce? Who has stayed with Bruce?

Natasha gets that feeling of dark glee, because there’s still someone worse off than her. There’s the new kid who’s having a tough time making friends, and then there’s the class freak, who no one will ever think of coming near. Natasha has people now, and she’s still getting accustomed to it, but she’s seeing the advantage. Bruce still has no one. He’s been with the Avengers exactly as long as she has, but people have chosen her, and accepted her, and loved her, and she has friends, and they left Bruce, who is gentle, and compassionate, and quietly intelligent, and they chose her.

But then Natasha realizes with a sense of panic that she’s got it wrong once again. Bruce is green, he’s green all over, like Elphaba, and of _course_ people won’t go near him. He’s marked out as a monster. But her, she hides it, she encases the blood in her body, the blood of others she has drunk and consumed, and it is hidden, no one knows her body count, not Clint, or Steve, no one, not even she does, and she is a monster underneath her human skin but they can’t see it, she is a spider waiting to split its creamy human skin and crawl out –

Natasha feels a wave of self-loathing and disgust and horror so bad she actually chokes and curls up, breathing hard.

“Natasha,” a steady voice is saying. Bruce, it’s Bruce, and he’s scooted closer. “Natasha, are you okay?” She looks up at him with liquid terror in her eyes, and he looks into her and knows it’s not for him this time but something else. He touches her hesitantly, and when she doesn’t flinch, he turns her gently towards him, holding her arms. It is grounding her, so she is thankful for the grip.

“Just breathe,” he says, and semi-consciously takes a deep breath of his own, as if to show her how to do it. It works, and Natasha remembers how to breathe. She takes a breath, feels her ribcage expand. She releases her curled in posture and pats her limbs down, checking, human skin, thighs, shoulders, neck. What is wrong with her? For a moment she could have sworn – a spider – tearing through her skin like so much paper – blood, ribs, flesh, bone, _BLOOD_ \- Natasha heaves and clutches red hair in her fist.

“Natasha, look at me,” Bruce says, and she does. He looks concerned, brow furrowed, and caring and human, there is no green under his skin, he is human, she is human, they’re at a party.

“You wanna tell me what that was?” Bruce asks, but he’s not pushing for an immediate answer, and his voice is soothing, so she just concentrates on deep breaths.

“I freaked out,” she says delicately, once she’s recovered. “No big deal.”

“Has it happened before?” Bruce asks, ever the concise physician. She shakes her head.

“It’s not like – like what Stark has. I mean, I don’t think so. It’s never happened before. I think I’m just overthinking certain things,” Natasha says. Bruce releases her, sits back. She’s not expecting him to pursue the issue, let alone go right to the heart of it. “You released S.H.I.E.L.D files into the public, didn’t you?” he says. “And you’ve been away for a while, Steve said trying to figure yourself out… identity crisis?”

“Pretty much.”

“They don’t usually cause a physical reaction.”

Natasha grimaces. “I thought,” she says, in a very quiet voice she hasn’t used since she was ten years old, “I thought there was a spider trying to crawl out of me.”

Bruce doesn’t ask about hallucinations like she thought any doctor would. Instead he asks the psychiatrist’s question. “Was the spider trapped in you?”

Natasha can’t believe two adult superhumans are having a conversation about a metaphorical spider, but she says, “No, the spider was me. And my skin was, it wasn’t real. And the spider was coming out.”

Bruce nods like this makes perfect sense.

“When you get it as badly as that, it’s important to remember first and foremost that you’re a human being. You may be however mixed up in mind or body, but you’re just a human being, Natasha. We’re all fundamentally the same, even if you feel like no one else can ever understand you. I’m sorry, I’m – not exactly qualified for this. I’m just rattling off basic psychology self-care. I’m sorry, I’ll shut up now.” He’s scratching at the back of his neck shyly, looking at her with nervousness, and Natasha thinks suddenly that he is _adorable_ , at his most human. She wonders if anyone’s ever thought something like that about her.

“No, don’t stop,” she says mildly, her voice sounding like it normally does, which relieves her. She’s not showing her ten year old self to anyone, whatever the situation. “Talk to me,” she says, and settles herself into a comfortable position and sips her drink to focus. “I’m tired of everyone else, and you’re the only unattached person here.”

Bruce looks at her, and Natasha realizes she doesn’t quite intend the innuendo, it just happened. All her flirtations just _happen_. She doesn’t know what she means by it. That’s just how she talks.

Belatedly, she realizes she talks like that to anyone and everyone she is comfortable with, will even tease Laura, if only to see her blush, because Natasha’s pretty certain Laura has a tiny little thing for her. It’s just talk. It’s just Natasha doing what she does, and people who know her will be able to rebut skilfully. The other Avengers have all mastered the slight edge in all conversation with Natasha, all except reclusive Banner. Because Bruce doesn’t have anything to bridge the gap, no light banter or teasing she’s accustomed to sparring with, so her words fall unintentionally weighted on him. That’s it, she decides. That’s the only reason she starts to sound like she’s interested in him.


End file.
